Falling Awake
by Freeze-Branded-Heart
Summary: You never get to choose. You live on what they sent you. And you know they're gonna use The things you love against you. And That's Just The Way It Goes... Falling Awake. Family and Friendship, complete with OC
1. Prologue

**First Story! Whew here goes...**

* * *

><p>"<em>Isabelle, I want you to listen to me." Dad said, sitting next to a good friend of his across the table from me. "Now, this is very important. If anything is to happen to me and I can't look after you, Mac will take full guardianship of you." I nodded. I was quite sure how this stuff all worked out. If dad was killed on the job, I would need someone to look after me when he was gone. My mother had left when I was ten. So I was left to my only god parent, Mac Taylor.<em>


	2. Tears and Rain

**Chapter 1, friendly criticism is always welcomed!**

* * *

><p>Afternoon sun beat down on my bare legs, as I leaned into the back of the truck, heaving all of my locker crap into the back seat. I was so ready for summer holidays.<p>

"Hey Belle, having a party tonight, wanna come?" Sophie called from across the parking lot. I backed out from behind the door so I could be seen. "No thanks, got things to do tonight."

I called back. Sophie pouted, but carried on anyway. I chuckled to myself as I continued shoving all my stuff into the truck. When I was sure everything would fit in without exploding, I closed the door and got into the driver's seat.

Just as I was about to pull out of the parking lot, a loud tapping on the glass window of the passenger side startled me and I accidentally stalled the truck instead of moving forward into drive.

The small truck abruptly jerked to a stop, and I sat in my seat having a mild panic attack. Looking to my right, I found Katie smiling sheepishly on the other side of the truck.

I rolled my eyes and unlocked the door for her and she happily hopped in. "Never do that again." I said, starting the truck again. "Sorry, just wanted to make sure you wouldn't drive away without me." Katie laughed.

"You couldn't have just asked, I suppose?" I looked at her. "Nope. Hey, did you hear about Tori and Jason?" Katie asked, looking out the window as we pulled out of the school parking lot and headed for the interstate. "No, what happened?"I always miss out on the latest gossip.

"He finally broke up with her." Katie said. "Good. She was a snot." We laughed together. After a short silence Katie spoke up again. "I can't believe grade eleven is over." She sighed. "Yeah." I replied distractedly, too busy watching the police cars and ambulance speed down the road past us.

"What do you think that's about?" Katie asked. "I don't know." I said, pulling into the parking of her apartment complex. "You wanna stay for a while?" She turned and looked at me, hanging out of the slightly ajar door.

"Yeah, sure." I nodded and turned the truck off and hopped out. "Did Sophie invite you to her party tonight?" Katie asked, unlocking the door to her family's apartment.

"Yeah, but I didn't really want to go." I said. "Why?" Katie set her bag down on the living room sofa; I just left mine by the door. "I just didn't feel like going tonight." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Oh well, she'll have more." We laughed. "Come on, let's go to my room." She gestured down the hall. After a couple of hours of talking and hanging out, I decided to head home.

"Thanks for the ride, Belle." Katie said, leaning in the doorway as I let myself out. "No problem." I Chuckled. "Just ask next time, so you don't give me another heart attack." I said to her as I headed down the stairs.

I sighed as I opened the truck door and got into the driver's seat once more, putting the key into the ignition. The truck hummed to life, and I pulled out of the parking space, and back onto the interstate.

I couldn't wait to get home. Dad said he would be home tonight. Dad being home was like Christmas for me. He worked as a CIA agent and we never got to spend time together, he would come home late and leave again early in the morning.

Pulling up onto our road, I could see the flashing lights of the ambulance and police cars. As I got closer, I could tell they were parked in our driveway. I pulled the truck over on the side of the road and I ran across the yard, under the yellow police tape, ignoring all the shouts of protest, and ran up the steps to the house.

There, Lying in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the living room floor was my father. "Dad…" I whispered, as tears ran down my face. All I wanted to do was run far, far away.


	3. Numb

**Chapter two :D**

**Criminal Minds is on tonight, so I had to post this before I got distracted!**

* * *

><p>"Hey," A man said, looking up from a clip board. "Who let her in?" He asked, gesturing in my direction. I stood gaping at the scene in front of me with only one word that seemed to echo around my brain. Dead. He was gone.<p>

A figure stepped in front of me, trying to block my view. "Belle," A familiar voice said quietly. I let my gaze linger for a second longer before looking up at the person. Mac Taylor. I blinked and opened my mouth to say something. "I… He was…" But my mouth wouldn't listen to what my brain wanted to say, and I did the only thing that I could think to do, I cried.

Not knowing what else to say or do, I let my body fall forward and hugged Mac around his midsection, mourning the loss of my dad. "Let's go outside." Mac said, pushing me back towards the door. "I tried calling you." He led me out onto the lawn. "I turned my phone off after school. I thought I was just going to come home, but then I ended up going to a friend's house for a few hours. The ambulance, it passed us on the road… I could have… This is my entire fault, Mac." I rambled, feeling very guilty for not just coming home after school.

"If I had just come home, maybe I could have tried to stop the person, I could have done something. He's dead because of me." Mac shook his head and put his hands on my shoulders. "He is not dead because of you. He is dead because of whoever killed him. If you had been home, you could have been killed too."

"I could have done something…" I whispered. "Come on," Mac said, putting an arm around my shoulders. "We should go get your stuff and I'll take you back to the apartment." He said. We walked back to the house in silence, and I immediately ran up the stairs to my bedroom. Once I was inside my own domain, I shut the door and let a few choked sobs escape.

This couldn't be happening. I had always heard of members of other families, not just in New York, all over the world, being murdered. But I never imagined that it could happen to my own family. Quickly wiping my eyes, I went to my closet and pulled down two zebra decaled suit cases and began to stuff the first one full of clothes.

The second I filled with objects that I wouldn't be able to live without; my laptop, pictures, my old black stuffed horse that I couldn't bear to leave behind, and other meaningful things. Once I was done, I sat on my bed and looked around my room.

The purple walls were almost bare, most pictures had been packed away to go to Mac's. Empty clothes hangers hung on the closet rod, and shelves were cleared of porcelain horses and other miss matched collected items, but the shelves themselves remained just as dusty.

On the top of one shelf, sat a single dusty picture. A woman with light brown hair, holding a smiling four year old girl while she sat on a front porch swing. That woman is also my mother. I don't know where she is now, because she left when I was six.

I never understood why she left, just that one morning I woke up and she had gone. I always wondered what about her life could have been so bad that she felt the need to leave, she just did. She always seemed happy to me, always smiling and laughing.

I decided to leave the picture where it sat, the memory no longer important to me. I may have only been six at the time, but I never forgave her for leaving. Whenever friends asked what happened to my mum, I would just tell them she was killed in an accident, it made me feel better about her leaving.

I was always too embarrassed to say what really happened, that she felt her life was so miserable she left her husband and six year old daughter. But now thinking, while I sit on my bed, I can't help but wonder where she might be right now. How would she react if she ever found out that dad was murdered?

How would she even find out he's dead?

I sat up. Would she even care? It was likely that she wouldn't. She probably moved to California and started another family, totally forgetting about us. The thought made my heart ache. I got off my bed and walked across the room to the shelf.

I reached up and pulled the picture down, wiped the dust off and studied the captured moment for a second. Then I remembered what that woman had done and quickly deposited the framed photo in the garbage can.

I felt numb, like I was living in a dream. Maybe this all was just a dream? Sometime I'd have to wake up; I just didn't know when that was.


	4. Falling Awake

**Omg Chapter 3!**

* * *

><p>There was a soft knock at the door and I looked up from the photo in the garbage can. "Come in." I said. Mac opened the door slowly and stepped inside. "Ready to go?" He asked. I nodded, crossing the room and picking up my two suit cases.<p>

"Are your keys in your truck?" Mac asked as I followed him down the stairs. "Yeah." I replied, looking into the living room. Dad had already been moved to the coroner's office, and CSI's were there collecting evidence. Outside, Mac's Chevy Avalanche was parked just behind my Ford, and he opened the door for me and took my suit cases. "I'll put these in the back."

As I was getting into the passenger side of the truck, I noticed a red mini van parked a few feet up the road. A woman with light brown curls falling onto her shoulders and wearing dark sun glasses to cover her eyes sat in the driver's seat. She must have just been lost, because she looked like she was reading a map or something, and drove away couple minutes later.

Mac returned and got into the driver's seat, starting the truck up and pulling off the road, heading for Manhattan in the same direction as the van had. The drive there was silent, neither of us said anything. I was okay with it; I actually preferred not to say anything right now.

"I'll have someone bring your truck in the morning." Mac spoke up. "Okay." I nodded, not looking away from the window as I watched the city pass by. And we went back to being silent. I watched the large highway sign that said 'Manhattan' come into view. It wasn't really any different from Staten Island. It was still New York.

I was sure I would be able to go to the same school, Manhattan and Staten Island weren't very far apart. I could adjust well, but I'm not sure I'd be willing to leave my friends. Sophie would hate me forever.

Mac pulled the Avalanche into the parking of his apartment building and parked in his usual spot. I opened my door and hopped out, going to the back seats to get my suit cases. Once I had them pulled out of the truck, I popped the handles on them so that I could roll them to elevator.

We rode up the elevator to Mac's floor and got off there, walking down the hall to his actual apartment. It was just like how I remembered. Nothing had moved much, and everything looked just like it did the last time I visited. "Your room is just down here." Mac said, pointing down the short hallway past the kitchen area.

He led me to the last door at the end of the hall, and opened the door to a small, square room. The floor was hardwood, like the rest of the apartment, and the walls were a deep green. The bed was covered with matching horse sheets, comforter, and pillows and the bed itself took up most of the room.

"Wow." I breathed. "We can change the sheets if you don't like them. They've been there for a few years." Mac said, looking at the horse blankets. "No. I like them." I smiled. "Okay. You know where everything is, right?" I nodded absent mindedly; I was still too busy gawking over my room.

"Okay. I have to go back to the lab for a while. I'll see if I can't come home a little early tonight." Mac said, lingering in the doorway. I turned and nodded again, and then he left. When I heard the front door close, I knew I was alone, and began unpacking all of my stuff.

My clothes all fit into the closet, even though it was smaller, but I could make do. There weren't enough shelves in the room, so a few things had to go into the closet, still packed in the suit case. I was relieved when I had finished, glad to be fully moved in. It was eight o'clock when I was officially finished, so I changed into my PJ's and lay awake in my new bed. Today's events finally taking its toll. I felt exhausted, but I couldn't sleep.

What do you do when it all falls apart?

Every time I closed my eyes to try to sleep, images of my dad lying dead on the floor were instilled in my mind. Is this what it feels like to lose someone you love? I've never had to deal with the death of a family member before. My grandparents were long gone before I came around. Dad was an only child, and mum had no relationship with her brother.

I've broken up with boyfriends in the past, it hurts for the first few hours, but then you just wish they were dead and it doesn't matter anymore because you hate them rather than miss them.

But I knew dad wasn't coming back.

Opening my eyes, I finally knew then, I wasn't dreaming. I was falling awake.

* * *

><p><strong>Love it? Hate it? Let me know, R&amp;R!<strong>


	5. Road to Recovery

**Wow, ear infections - not fun**

**Sorry for the slow update, I've kind of neglected this story,but it's okay, because I'm back now!**

* * *

><p>I must have fallen asleep sometime last night, because I woke up to the soft trill of my phone ringing and vibrating on the small night stand table. Rolling onto my side, I rubbed my slightly puffy eyes and picked up the little blue cell phone and pressed the talk button.<p>

"Hello?" I responded. "Isabelle? Oh my god, is that you? Are you okay?" Sophie drilled. "Yes, yes, and yes." A deep sigh of relief could be heard on the other end. "Are you sure you're okay? Do need to talk about it?" Sophie asked, sounding truly upset. "Sophie," I tried to interject, but she kept going. "Oh my god, what if that was you? What would I have done?" Sophie's voice wavered. "Sophie, Sophie! I'm fine, okay?" I yelled into the receiver.

"Is, are you listening to me? That could have been you. What would I have done, you're like the Robin to my Batman, Chewbacca to my Han Solo." She recited. Chewbacca? I couldn't help it, as somber as the conversation was supposed to be, I just couldn't stop the snicker that escaped.

"Don't laugh at me! I'm trying to be serious here."

"Sorry, sorry." I cleared my throat, and put on a straight face. "I'm just glad to know you think of me as your sidekick."

"Oh, come on," Sophie snorted. "You know it too." She laughed. "We should do something. You should distract yourself." For a moment I did feel distracted, listening to Sophie laugh made me concentrate on her and not what my head was whispering to me. But just like that, the moment was gone.

"Belle, are you sure you're okay?" Sophie asked again, she stopped laughing when I became silent on my end of the phone. "Um, yeah." I responded quietly, but not convincingly. Sophie sighed, sounding slightly empathetic and annoyed. "Okay Belle, I'll stop asking," She said.

I nodded, and then realized she couldn't see it. "Okay."

"But," She started again. "You'll have to talk some time, so promise me if you need to, you'll talk to me?"

"Alright Soph." I nodded again. I was about to say something else, but a knock at the door interrupted me. "Hey, I'll have to call you back." Not waiting for her to respond, I ended the call and hopped off my bed, tossing my phone onto it as I went.

Still in my pajamas, I glided down the hallway in my socks, wondering who could be at the door. Grabbing the gold doorknob, and twisting, I swung the door open to find a tall man, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, with black hair and blue eyes.

"Hi." I said, holding up a hand. "Hi, Detective Flack, you must be Isabelle?" Nodding, I took his outstretched hand and we shook. "Yeah, that's me." Detective Flack nodded, and held out his hand towards me, dropping a key in my hand. I looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "Mac asked me to drive your truck back." He clarified. "Oh, thanks."

"Alright, well I have to get back. It was nice meeting you." Flack waved, stepping out of the doorway. "Bye." I waved back and closed the door behind him. I turned back into the kitchen, sighing as I went. Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe I did need to distract myself.

Turning the key over in my hand, I thought for a minute. There was only one thing that could help right now.

Shuffling back to my room, I quickly dove into my closet; digging through all of my clothes, finally pulling out a pair of old ripped jeans and a t shirt. Once changed, I dug around again for my wallet, successfully managing to pull it out, and turned back to my bed and snatched up my phone on my way out.

Stopping at the door, I pulled on my shoes, locked the door from inside and headed down the hall to the elevator. The ride down to the parking lot only lasted about a minute, and I was out the doors and onto the paved floor of the lot.

I looked at all the cars; my eyes fell onto the small, silver Ranger, parked directly across from Mac's usual space. There weren't as many cars in the parking lot at the time, it was early afternoon, I figured most of the drivers would be at work. Pressing the unlock button on the key, I heard the locks eject, the lights flashed, and I opened the driver's side door and got in. Sitting up straight, I took a deep breath. The truck smelled as though it usually did, besides the slight hint of cologne, which probably belonged to Flack.

I put the key into the ignition and the truck rumbled to life. Once I was out of parking and onto the interstate, I headed back to Staten Island. WhiteCrowe Farms was home to a good friend, a certain Palomino named Ike.

Ike, an eleven year old, palomino Tennessee Walking horse, whom I've had since I was ten. He has been my best friend, apart from Sophie and Katie, ever since. As I reflected on past barn memories, I subconsciously looked up into the rear view mirror.

Pulling onto the dirt back road, a red minivan trailed behind me. It looked familiar, but because of the sun, I could see who was driving the vehicle, so I look back through the windshield, and drove the truck forward. It wasn't long until I was pulling into the gravel driveway of WhiteCrowe Farms. There were a few cars parked in the small parking area, but besides that, things looked like they were moving slow.

As I was getting out of the truck, the familiar figure of Meg, the barn owner stepped out of the barn. "Isabelle!" She called, waving as she ran over to me. "It's been so long. Ike was starting to get lonely." Meg smiled. "Yeah, school is a pain." I smiled, jumping completely out of the truck, and slamming the door shut behind me. "Well, it's summer now, you have all the time to ride." Meg laughed, walking with me to the barn. "How have you been?" She asked. It was apparent that news hadn't traveled this far, so I decided not to tell her about dad.

"I've been good. I really missed this place." I nodded, taking one last glance at the road, finding the red minivan nowhere in sight, and continued following Meg into the barn.

"Good. Ike is out in his paddock, the arena is free if you want to use it." She said. "No thanks, I think I'm gonna head for the trails." And I continued to the paddocks on my own, while Meg disappeared into the feed room. I stepped out into the paddock complex, all filled with grazing horses.

Walking past all of the front paddocks, I went straight to the end where I knew Ike would be.

Sure enough, waiting by the gate, as if he knew I would be coming, was Ike. He was resting his head against the green gate, ears drooped in a relaxed motion, but his eyes never moved from the barn. Once I was spotted walking towards him, his ears perked up immediately. "Hey buddy." I whispered, walking over to him.

His head lowered at my touch as I stroked his golden face. "Sorry I haven't visited in a while. I've been really busy with school." I said, pulling his purple halter off the fence post and putting it on his head. "Dad is gone." Ike just looked at me, his deep brown eyes never leaving mine. "Someone killed him." I whispered.

As if he understood, Ike shoved me out of the paddock with his head, pushing me back towards the barn. "Alright." I laughed, and together we walked back to the barn.


	6. Cross My Heart

**Not my favorite chapter :S **

**I'm so sorry this is starting off so slow!**

* * *

><p>The relaxed feeling washed over me as I sat in the driver's seat of the truck, on my way back to Manhattan. The last couple of days had been left behind on the trails in a cloud of dust and hoof prints, I was finally starting to feel like me again. I had to admit, Sophie was right, I did need to distract myself.<p>

I pulled the truck into the parking lot of the apartment complex, parking in the spot Flack had when he brought the truck back. The sun was just beginning to set as I opened the door and flopped out tiredly onto the asphalt.

I had spent a good few hours at the barn with Ike, it was fun, but I felt exhausted now. Practically crawling into the elevator, I hit the buttons, and leaned against the wall as I was lifted onto Mac's floor. When I heard the ding and the doors opened, I dragged my feet all the way down the hall and to the door.

I placed my hand on the doorknob and twisted, but the knob wouldn't turn. "Damn it." I growled, shaking the door and knob, but nothing happened. I locked the door from the inside. Frantically digging in my pocket for a key, I remembered that I never grabbed one. I left it sitting in the bowl by the door.

"Oh, come on!" I snapped at the door, hoping it would open if I got angry enough, but it stayed locked. Sighing, I turned and got back into the elevator.

I dragged my feet all the way back into the truck, begrudgingly starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot again. I can't believe I was stupid enough not to grab the key on my way out. As I drove myself to the crime lab, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched. It was something I couldn't quite understand, I was driving by myself and I was quite certain that I was in the truck alone, but I could still feel someone's eyes on me.

I shook the feeling and continued on, watching as the lab came into view. Stopping the truck and waiting in the heavy New York traffic, sitting with my right blinker on waiting to get into the parking zone. Once there was a break, I quickly pulled in, found a spot and shut the truck off.

As I walked around to the front entrance, that eerie feeling like I was being watched came back. Looking over my shoulder, I watched all the New York residents push on along the side walk, but I couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary.

This time, I couldn't shake the feeling; I knew I was being watched. Quickly pulling the doors open, I stepped inside and walked over to a front desk and receptionist. "Hi, can I help you?" She asked. I nodded. "Yeah, I'm looking for Detective Taylor with the crime lab." The receptionist typed something on a keyboard, opened a drawer and pulled out a visitors pass and handed it to me. "The thirty-fifth floor, I'll let him know you're coming." She nodded. "Thanks."

As I walked into the elevator, I hung the pass around my neck, pressing the number thirty five on the long list of floor numbers. In only a matter of seconds, the doors opened and I hopped out, walking across the hall to Mac's office.

"Excuse me," I heard someone say. I stopped walking and turned to the person coming towards me. He had auburn colored hair, slight stubble and couldn't have been much taller than I was. "Can I help you?" He asked. Sighing inwardly, I placed a smile on my face and said, "I'm here to see Mac." and held up my pass. Whoever I was talking to gave an awkward laugh. "Sorry, I didn't see the pass." I nodded. 'It's okay." And held out my hand. "I'm Isabelle." I said, the man grabbed onto my hand and we shook. "Adam Ross, it's nice to meet you." Adam smiled.

"Belle?" A familiar voice called from across the hall. I looked up and found Mac standing outside his office. "Hi." I waved to Adam as I left; he returned the gesture and continued on his way. "What are you doing here?" Mac asked. "Um, Flack came to bring back my truck, so I went to the barn to see Ike, and I guess I locked myself out." I smiled.

I received an amused look. "And you'd like me to do something about it?" Mac asked. "Well, I was hoping you might lend me your key?" I said, holding up my hand and smiling deviously. Mac sighed and walked over to his coat hanging on a coat hanger and fished around in his pocket for his key ring.

Once he found them, he pulled the apartment key off the ring and hesitantly placed it in my hand. "Don't lose it." He warned. "Cross my heart."

"How was your day, besides the locking yourself out part?" Mac asked, taking a seat in his chair, while I sat down on the little red sofa. "Pretty good. I spent most of the day at the barn." I replied. He nodded and looked down at something on his desk picking up a small red canister and tossing it to me. I caught it and looked down. "Pepper spray?"

"It would give me a little peace of mind." He said. Rolling the canister around in my hand, I couldn't help but feel my reassurance break just a little bit. "Uh, thanks." I muttered, pocketing it. "I should go back. I'm getting hungry." I said, standing to leave. Mac stood up too, and held his office door open for me. "I'll be home in couple hours." He said. I nodded and waved on my way out. "See ya." And I headed back to the elevator.

At the front desk on the ground level, I handed back my visitor pass to the receptionist and I made my way outside. As I walked down the steps and onto the side, I noticed a woman with light brown hair wearing a red leather jacket, leaning against the building's wall. She looked oddly familiar, but I wouldn't quite place my finger on where I had seen her before. Brushing her off, I continued on my way to the truck and headed for the apartment.


	7. Of Familiar Faces

**Two Chapters in one night? I'm so tired -_-**

* * *

><p>Bed sounded really good right now. Sleep was the only thing on my mind as I unlocked the apartment door and let myself in. All I wanted and felt like doing was crawling into bed. And so a dragged myself down the hallway to my room.<p>

Even though my mind and body were tired, I couldn't stop thinking about the woman leaning against the building on the side walk. Walking over to my closet, I peeled off my jeans and t shirt and changed into my pajamas. She looked quite familiar, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember where I had seen her before.

I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled my hair back into a pony tail. Why couldn't I remember?

Crawling under the covers, I turned the lights and closed my eyes, but I wasn't able to sleep. Not knowing why this woman was so familiar, left staying up half the night racking my brain for answers, but none came, and she remained nameless as exhaustion finally carried me away and I fell asleep.

Something was shaking me. Persistently. And it wouldn't go away. "No." I moaned, not wanting to wake up. "Isabelle." A voice reprimanded. Opening one eye slowly, I found myself face to face with Mac. "What time is it?" I asked tiredly. "Two o'clock." He said, opening the blinds on the window and letting the sun burn my eyes. "Oh."

I closed my eyes again to keep the sun out and rolled over, covering my head with the blankets. "Get up." Mac said, walking over to the bed and shoving me. "Why are you still here?" I heard a snort from my left. "I came home for lunch and to see how you were doing." Mac answered. "Well, I'm awesome." I said, rolling further off the bed so I landed on my feet. "I was just about to head." Mac said, walking out my door and into the kitchen with me tagging along.

"Have you got anything on dads' case?" I asked hopefully. Mac stopped and turned to me. "I think we're close to finding a suspect." He said. I nodded, picking up on the note of disappointment in his voice. I was sure he was just telling me that for the reassurance, so I pretended to buy it. "Good." I smiled. "Okay, I'm off then. If you need anything, or have a problem, just call me." He said, stepping out the door.

I was on my own again. Walking back to my room, I picked up my phone from the night stand. There was an unread text message. Sophie wanted to know if I wanted to hang out with her, so I texted her back and said I would. Peeling off my pajamas, I quickly pulled out an outfit for today and threw it on, then brushed out my hair.

On my way back through the kitchen, I flicked on the TV and toasted myself a bagel, devouring it quickly while I stood behind the island counter and watched the news. Once I was finished, I stuffed my phone into my pocket, remembered to grab the spare apartment key and headed for the elevator.

An odd feeling came over me as I got down to the parking garage. I knew I was being watched again. I was about to walk over to the truck when I stopped dead in my tracks. Parked right beside my Ranger was a red minivan and it wasn't there yesterday, or the day before.

Red minivan. I had seen it on more than one occasion before. Leaving Staten Island with Mac, and when I was driving to Willow Creek. The wheels in my head finally started to spin. This minivan and whoever was driving it, was following me.

Red. The woman I passed on the side walk last night was wearing a red leather jacket. She also had light brown hair, like the driver I saw the other day when I was leaving with Mac. She looked very familiar, but it wasn't coincidence that I crossed paths was a complete stranger. No, this woman was no stranger to me. I knew exactly why I thought she was familiar.

She was a part of six years of my life. She gave birth to me. She was my mother.

Looking over the top of the trucks bed, I could see that she was inside the van, looking at something I couldn't see, but she was in there. It was obvious she hadn't looked up and saw me there, so I immediately ducked down behind the front tire of the truck so she couldn't see my feet.

After a few minutes of silence, I heard a click and the slamming of door. From under the truck, I could hear high heeled boots walking to the elevator. I stayed hidden, watching her. As she passed by my truck, I could clearly see the black handle of a gun sticking out of her jacket pocket. I didn't know what she had planned to do, or what the gun was intended for, but if there was a gun involved, I had to assume it wasn't good.

Once I made sure the elevator doors were shut, I unlocked the truck and jumped inside; slamming the door shut behind me and floored it out of the parking lot, down the busy highway and to the crime lab. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure it was going to break through my chest.

What was she doing back? Why was she following me? I asked questions that I wasn't sure I wanted answers to. Coming to the crime lab, I barely stopped for traffic before speeding into the parking. Jumping out, I didn't bother to lock the doors to the tuck, and ran down to side walk to front doors.

A different receptionist sat at the front desk. Running over to the desk and slightly out of breath, I didn't give the receptionist time to ask me is she can help me. "I need to see Detective Taylor." I panted. "I'm sorry, miss, but he's busy right now. "She said, looking at her computer screen. "You don't understand, I need to see him right now." I pleaded. "I'm sorry, but…" I was done with buts, not waiting for clearance; I tore down the lobby at a fast pace and leaped into the elevator.

I frantically pressed the number thirty five and impatiently waited for the elevator to deposit me on the floor. When the doors opened, I ran out and across the hall, sliding to a stop in front of Mac's office doors. He wasn't there. "Isabelle?" I heard Adam. Whirling around, I looked at him. "Adam," I said, out of breath. "Where's Mac?" I asked him. "Um, uh, he's…" Adam pointed down the hall, but he didn't need to say much. Mac was already walking towards us.


	8. Degrees of Fear

**Here it is, chapter 7!**

* * *

><p>"What's wrong, what happened?" Mac asked as I latched onto his arm. "She's back," I cried. "She's back, I don't know how, but she's here. She's watching me." Mac held my hand, and I could see the confusion on his face. "Who? Who is watching you?" He asked. "My mom."<p>

The environment around us seemed quite, like there was no noise except my beating heart. "How do you know?" Shifting my eyes nervously down the hall and looking back, I said. "I saw her. In the parking garage."

"Okay, okay. Calm down. I'm sure she just came back and tried to find you. Maybe she heard about your father." Mac tried to reassure me, but the gun I saw in her pocket was telling me a different story. "No, she had a gun. I saw it; it was sticking out of her pocket." I said shakily. Grabbing my arm, Mac quickly walked down the hall to another room where I woman stood over a microscope.

"Jo, I have to go home for a little bit." He said. "Okay." Jo nodded. And without another word, we were left the crime lab and got into my truck, Mac driving. "Are you sure she had a gun?" He asked, driving back to the apartment. "Positive." I nodded. Mac parked the truck and got out, looking around the lot with a hand on his gun. I was hesitant to get out, but opened the door anyway and slid out of my seat.

The minivan was gone, but that didn't help my nerves. I stepped down onto the paved ground, shutting my door as I went, and looked around my surroundings. Nothing looked out of New York ordinary.

"Come on." Mac gestured to the elevator. I followed behind him all the way to the apartment, looking over my shoulder from time to time.

Outside the door, Mac twisted the knob, slowly and quietly pushing the door open. His gun was raised as he slipped into the apartment; I crept inside after a moment of not hearing any potential danger. The room looked exactly like it did before I left. Nothing was missing; everything was where it was supposed to be.

Mac rejoined me in the kitchen as I searched the premises for any mysterious boxes or packages that could contain explosive devices. "All clear. She's not here." He said, holstering his gun. I nodded upon finding nothing suspicious in the room. Maybe she didn't even get into the apartment. But the fact that she had been following me was still unsettling. It was odd, that after ten years she decides to show up. What did she want?

"What's going to happen now?" I asked numbly. "I need you to tell me what she looks like." Mac said, shuffling around and finding a pen and pad of paper. "Um, she has light brown hair, green eyes. She was wearing a red leather jacket and black high heeled boots." I nodded. "That's what she was wearing when I saw her in the parking lot." I watched as Mac scribbled things down on his pad of paper.

"How're you feeling?" He asked. Exhaling, I flopped down onto the sofa. "Scared." Mac sat down next to me, silent. "Scared stiff." I said. "It's okay to be scared." Mac said after a moment of silence. "I don't want to be scared. This woman made me hate myself, I thought she left because me. I always thought it was because of me. I want to be angry, Mac. I hate her with every ounce of my being, but I am afraid." I cried, burying my face in my hands. Strong arms wrapped around my shoulders. "There is no such thing as bravery, only degrees of fear." Mac said.

Mac ended up staying home for the rest of the day. We played scrabble and watched movies all night after ordering Chinese takeout.

At about eleven o'clock, I declared I was going to bed, and shuffled down the hall, while Mac sat in his chair and read the paper while watching the news. In my room, I stumble about, flinging a pair of denim shorts into the laundry basket in the closet. As I tossed the shorts in the closet, a soft 'thunk' could be heard as a heavy object in the pocket collided with the wall on its way in. Confused, I walked over to the laundry basket and pulled the object out of the pocket.

It was my phone. The red light at the top of it was flashing, signifying that I had missed alerts. I pressed the okay button and the phone lit up. The incoming text message sign was up, I had missed 3 new messages. I pressed view. _WTF are you?_ "Oh no." I whispered. I had totally forgotten about Sophie. She wasn't going to be happy with me.

Cringing as I did it, I dialed her number and held the phone a few inches from my ear. "Isabelle Alice Carter! Where have you been?" Sophie screamed. "You had me scared half to death!" Pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pulled my pajama shorts up my legs and tied the draw stings. "Sophie, I'm so sorry," I said. "Do you have any idea how scared I was?"

"Listen, Sophie, listen. Do you remember when I told you about my mom?" There was a moment of silence as Sophie thought. "Yeah, you said she was killed in an accident." She said. "Sophie, I lied to you," I began, Sophie remained quiet. "My mom was never in an accident. She's still alive. She left when I was six, and she's back now." I said, falling back onto my bed. "I don't know why, but she's here now, and I think she's looking for me."

"Belle, oh my god." Was all I heard. "Please don't be mad." I pleaded. "Belle, I'm not mad." Sophie said, she sounded understanding, not angry, and I couldn't help but feel relieved because of it. "You're not?" I asked. "No, why would I be mad?"

"I don't know. I just thought maybe you would be mad that I lied to you about it." I sighed. "Well, I'm not mad. You did scare the hell out of me though. Next time, do me a favor and call me?" Sophie laughed. "I'll try." Laughter echoed through the phone and off the walls. "I'm gonna go, I'm tired." I said. "Alright. I love you girl." Sophie said and hung up, leaving me in silence.

Sitting in my bed, I couldn't help but wonder if dad could see me now. I wondered what he would say, what he would do. City lights shone through my bedroom window, and I walked over and opened it, letting in all the traffic sounds, and city smells. Leaning out the window, I could see the moon far away in the sky.

"I know you're somewhere out there," I said, looking at the sky, trying to find the stars over all the lights. "I need you."


	9. Cold Murderer

**Math homework, History homework, writers block... it never ends!**

**Anyways... Chapter 8**

* * *

><p>Cold green eyes looked into mine. "You could have saved me, Isabelle." Dad said. He sounded angry and upset. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." I cried, trying to look away from the blood that oozed from the hole in his chest. "You could have helped me." His words were almost impossible to hear over the crack of a gunshot that sliced through the empty air. "You could have saved me."<p>

Jolting awake with a gasp, I didn't have time to catch myself as I lost my balance, falling from my position on the window, and collided with the wood floor. "It was just a dream," I whispered. "Just a dream." I moaned from my crumpled heap on the floor. Slowly, I picked myself up, and shuffled out of my room and down the hall.

On my way down the hall and into the kitchen, I never noticed that both the TV and coffee pot were on, instead, I carried on down the hall to the bathroom. Coming out of his own room at the same second I passed by his door, was Mac, tying a tie around his neck and carrying his suit jacket in one arm.

"Ack!" I screamed in surprise, and we ran straight into each other. "What are you doing here?" I asked, slowing my breathing as to give my heart a chance to restart. "I live here, remember?" Mac said, somewhat smugly. "I mean what are you doing home?" I tried again, and received a rather confused look. "Belle, it's five thirty." Mac said. "What?" I asked, back pedaling a few steps to the clock on the wall.

Sure enough, it read five thirty. "Oh." I breathed. Mac snorted and walked back out to the kitchen, as I continued to the bathroom.

Warm water washed over me, relaxing every tense muscle. "You could have saved me." Pressing my forehead into the wall, I listened to those words echo around my brain for a while. No matter what anyone says, it will always be my fault. "I didn't know."

Turning off the water, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself. I walked back to my room, dumping my pajamas in the laundry basket as I passed by, and continued to my closet where my clothes hung. I rifled through for a minute or two, and finally decided on an outfit. Ditching the towel and wrapping it around my head, I quickly threw on my clothes and combed out my hair.

As I passed by my bed, I had to stop and look at the picture of dad and I that was sitting on the night stand. Old memories were finally starting to resurface, and I couldn't do anything to stop the lonely tear that slid down my cheek.

A knock at the door startled me out of my grief and self-loathing. "Come in." I said, wiping furiously at the tear that trailed down the side of my face. "I've gotta head out." Mac said, appearing on the other side of the door. "Okay." I nodded, trying to pretend nothing was wrong. "Are you alright?" Mac asked, straightening up and looking closely at me. "I'm fine."

"Okay. I'll try to be home early tonight." He said and shuffled out of the doorway. "See ya." I waved, turning back to my room. Letting out a heavy hearted sigh, I flopped down onto the sheets of my bed. Who would have wanted him dead? Who could have been angry enough to kill him? I wanted to know why, and I wanted to know who.

Sun light filtered through the window, warming my room, and I couldn't resist closing my eyes to soak it all in. In all of the time spent thinking about dad, I completely forgot my mother and the tail she currently had on me. When had she got here? And why was she here?

I snapped my eyes opened and bolted upright. If she was the woman in the red minivan the first time I saw it, that meant she was sitting just outside the house; watching all that went on. Watching me. If that was her, that meant she had come back before dad was murdered.

But _why_ did she come back?

Jumping out of bed, I ran over to the desk that sat in the corner of the room, flipping the lid of my lap top open. Quickly opening the fire fox browser, I brought up a 411 person search page and typed out Catherine Emily Travis (Carter).

There were only a few names that came up, a couple Catherine Travis's, Catherine Emily's, but there was only one Catherin Emily Travis (Carter). I clicked on the name and all of her addresses came up in a list. She was born and raised in New York, I knew that. I also knew that she left in 2000.

Under all of the information I knew already, was a list of things I didn't. She was all over the map after she walked out. Moved to Miami, Florida and stayed for three years, after that she moved to Washington, stayed for two years, and then moved to southern California and stayed until present.

If she was living in places like Miami, Washington, and California, why come back to Staten Island after all that time? It could have been because she heard that dad had been murdered, but I was doubtful about that, she hasn't had anything to do with us for ten years, why would she bother coming back now?

Unless…

Could it be possible that she's the killer? But that didn't make sense, what would she have against dad; she was the one who left. The timing did fit though, if not back because of the murder, why comeback at all? She wanted something.

But then there was the question; what did she want?

Something just didn't fit. Where did I come into play? If she had been following me all along, obviously I had something to do with her being back in New York, because I don't know many people who stalk others on shopping trips. But if I was important to her in any way, she wouldn't have left, or simply just taken me with her when she did, so why follow me?

I didn't know why she was back, or what she wanted, yet, but I did know she had a gun.

A gun. That's right! The gun in her pocket, and dad had been shot. I subconsciously shuddered at the images that projected in my mind. I knew then, I was sure of it, she had killed him. She was a cold murderer, and I was sure of it.


	10. Get Out Alive

**-_- Still recovering from writers block... oi**

**Hope this chapter is likeable!**

* * *

><p>Panic was starting to set in as I paced about my room. She killed him, what if I was next? Maybe that's why she was following me, she was going to kill me just like she killed dad.<p>

Sixteen was too young to out like that, especially by the hand of the woman who gave birth to you. The thought made my stomach churn. Was she really planning on killing me? If she was, she was going to try damn hard, because I wasn't going down without a fight.

Sliding across the hardwood floor, I skidded into my open closet and pulled out a pair of suede boots, putting them on as I ran and hopped down the hall to the door. Other Apartment doors flew past me as I ran down the hall and dove into the elevator. I could feel my hands shaking with adrenaline, and my breaths were shaky. How did I know she was even planning on murdering me? I didn't know, I thought, slumping against the wall of the elevator as it began its descent to the ground level.

It was merely a hunch. I wasn't even sure of it, but I had to tell someone about her. Comprehending that my mother was actually back in New York and looking for me was hard. It was always to my understanding that she hated me. But I guess I still have that to find out.

When the elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal the parking garage, I quickly stepped off and made a B-line for the truck. Completely lost in worried thought as I crossed the pavement, I was barely able to hear the click of metal on metal.

Frozen in mid step, I tried to see if someone was standing in my peripheral vision, but there was nothing I could see. "Hello, sweetheart. Did you miss your dear, darling mother?" An all too familiar voice spoke. I turned around slowly so I could face her. "Catherine." I grated out of a mix of fear and anger. "How are you? It's been a while." She smiled wickedly. "How's dad?"

"Fuck you!" I snapped, taking a step closer to her, forgetting the raised gun in her hand. I wish I had something a little more painful than pepper spray. Thinking of the small canister, I didn't even remember to bring it with me in my haste out the door. Catherine laughed manically at my anger. "Figured it out then, have you?" She asked. My hands balled into fists by my sides.

"You have no idea of the things I know." Catherine cackled, lowering the gun slightly as she did. I considered running for it and taking cover behind a car, but the thought was quickly replaced when her laughing stopped abruptly and the gun was pointed at me again. "Oh please, Isabelle. You're my daughter, you're just like me. I know everything you were able to find out."

"I am nothing like you."

"You don't think so?" She asked, I nodded. "I'm not a murderer."

She laughed another cold hearted laugh, making me shiver at her malice. "Maybe not yet."

"Never. I will never be anything like you." I growled. Suddenly, the thought occurred to me, how was I going to get out of this one? She had the gun. What did I have? Nothing. I considered running again, but the chances of escaping without a bullet hole to some part of my body were slim. I shifted my eyes down the parking lot and out at the traffic that drove down the busy streets. Someone was bound to stop for a girl bleeding to death.

I shifted my gaze back to the woman standing in front of me. It was risky. "If you're going to kill me, just get it over with then." I said, trying to sound bored. "Like you murdered dad."

A horrible smirk played on her lips and I knew I said the wrong thing. She was going to do just as I told her to. She was going to kill me right here and right now. I watched her pull the trigger back and a loud crack split through the seemingly silent parking garage.

The pain was immense, like someone stabbing me over and over again with a sharp, serrated knife. I gasped and choked in pain, stumbling to my knees and falling to the pavement. Blood soaked though the white shirt I was wearing. I placed a hand over the hole in my abdomen, shrieking at the contact, the long sleeves on my arms covered with dirt and spattered blood.

I watched as leather boots ran past me, and a shattering of glass could be heard over my painful gasps for breath. After a few moments I heard an engine start up and my own truck drove past me as I lay on the ground.

Blood had started to pool on the pavement, mixing with the dirt and the dust.

Still covering the wound, I wearily climbed to my feet, staggered a few steps, and stumbled out onto the side walk of Manhattan. Each step felt like a thousand needles biting into the flesh around the bullet.

I gritted my teeth and pressed on.

The police station wasn't far away, and there were a plenty of people out walking on the sidewalk. "Help," I cried to a man in a suit talking on his cell phone, he gave me a wary glance but kept walking. "Please," I begged, feeling the blood seep through my fingers, but the man kept walking.

"Oh my god," I heard someone gasp. "You're bleeding," Hands grabbed my shoulders, but I was in so much pain, I could barely acknowledge it. I watched as the woman holding me pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number, all I caught was 911, girl…shot…hurry…

"What's your name?" The woman asked. "Isabelle." I muttered. "Isabelle, that's a lovely name. How old are you?" I knew she was trying to stay calm, but I could clearly hear the panic in her voice. "Sixteen." She nodded, and I could hear sirens wailing, lights flashing through the parting traffic. I watched as the ambulance pulled up on the curb, a crowd was gathering to see what was going on.

A familiar black Avalanche followed behind the ambulance, screeching to a halt beside it. Jumping out of the driver's seat was Mac, he didn't stop to ask any questions, he just ran over and took me from the woman who called for help. "Isabelle, you're going to be okay." He said, grasping my hand. I nodded. "Who did this to you?" He asked, looking at the hole in my stomach. "Mom." I gasped.


	11. I Hear Voices

**New Chapter :D**

* * *

><p>Something cold landed on my cheek. I couldn't tell what it was, my eyes were closed and I was afraid of what I'd find if I did open them. A gruesome wound, I was sure. A cool breeze buffeted my hair into my face and more cold things landed on my cheeks, quickly dissipating upon contact. It sort of reminded me of the first heavy snowfall of the season. But it didn't make any sense. The last time I checked it was the middle of summer.<p>

Slowly unclenching my fists and spreading my opens palms on the ground beneath me. Cold, fluffy matter melted beneath my hands.

Snow. I was lying on a fresh blanket of fallen snow. I opened my eyes, looking up into a sky full of dark clouds, snowflakes landing in my eye lashes. There wasn't a skyscraper in sight. But I thought the last time my eyes were open I was lying on the cold sidewalk of Manhattan.

Looking around from my lying position on the snowy ground, I could tell that there was in fact, not one single building in the area of wherever I was. "Hello?" I called to the wind. I listened carefully for any reply as I sat up. "Isabelle…"

My own name echoed around me. "Where am I?" I asked. "If you can hear me," The wind whispered again. My hand felt warm, tingling like someone was holding my hand. The invisible contact was warm against my cold palm. "Am I dead?" I called frantically.

"I just want you to know that I love you and you mean the world to me."

The wind blew again, carrying the voice with it, making it louder. The voice sounded familiar. I've heard it before. "Please Belle," It said. I had to think long and hard, processing the sound in my head. "Please don't leave. I know you want to be with your father, but I need you here…" It wasn't dad, whoever was talking to me made a direct reference to him. "You're like my own daughter,"

It was Mac. Mac was talking to me. Where was he? "Mac?" I called. But I didn't get an answer. "Please, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand." Mac's voice echoed around me and pressure on my hand tightened. He was holding my hand, squeezing it. How could I squeeze his hand in return when it wasn't really there with me? I balled my hand into a fist, squeezing around my own pressure.

"I love you."

"I love you too." I whispered, shivering when the wind blew again. My whole body was cold, and the fact that I was still dressed in denim shorts and the thin white shirt didn't make me any warmer. At least the suede boots protected my feet somewhat.

I shivered, hugging myself as I got to my feet. There was nothing around but a long stretch of snowy fields. So, I started walking… and walking, in high hopes to something, anything, until I felt exhausted. Collapsing in the snow, I clutched my stomach where a bullet wound was supposed to be. Even though there was no mark where the bullet penetrated my skin, I could still feel the pain.

I gasped as sharp pain erupted from the spot. The wind blew harshly, whipping snow into my eyes, and with it, it carried a low beeping noise. I tried to quiet my heavy breathing to listen more, but more pain joined the invisible wound.

The beeping became slower and quieter.

It took me a minute to figure out what it was. It was a heart monitor in a hospital, measuring my heartbeat. I listened to the beeping become slower, slower, and slower. I wretched in pain again, lying down on the ground.

My breathing was labored. It was becoming harder and harder to get oxygen to my lungs. One more pain spiked my stomach and the long, flat line tone filled the air. "Help!" I heard footsteps on tile floor. "Nurse!" More footsteps echoed around me. "We're losing her," A foreign voice said. The snow that fell around me quickly turned to rain. "Defibrillator, stat."Another voice said.

Lightning lit up the dark, cloudy sky around me. "Clear." A bolt of electricity charger through my chest. I gulped a mouthful of air. "Nothing."

"Clear." I gasped for another mouthful of air. "Still nothing."

"Come on Isabelle, one more, you can do it." Someone said. I wanted to believe them, I did, but the pain in my chest and stomach was trying to convince otherwise, and doing a good job at it too. "Clear." The voice said. The electrifying sensation filled my chest again. Gasping for breath and jolting awake, I opened my eyes to bright lights and doctors wearing masks standing over me.

"Welcome back, Miss Carter." The doctor smiled half-heartedly, which I'm sure, was just out of shock and relief.

I lay back in the hospital bed, eyes closed and breathing heavily. As the nurse fixed my IV and busied herself with other things, I watched Mac through the screen on the window having a heated conversation with someone on the other line.

Being awake was a lot different than my dream. I wasn't cold anymore, it felt like my whole body was on fire, and the pain was more intense. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I could feel the spot where the bullet hit me; I gasped and quickly retracted my hand. After the nurse left, dubbing my condition as stable, Mac opened the door and came in, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. A cold cup of coffee sat on the arm of the chair.

He looked tired, like he hadn't slept in years. It broke my heart to see him like that, knowing I was causing that pain. I looked around my small room, my eyes landing on a stuffed horse and a bouquet of flowers sitting on the foot of the bed. Pink ribbon that said "Get better soon" was wrapped around the horse's neck; I knew who they were from.

"A couple of your very concerned friends visited while you were asleep." Mac said, following my gaze and putting emphasis on the word very. "How do you feel?" He asked. I looked away from the stuffed horse and flowers.

"Like I've been hit by a truck."


	12. Bored Like This

**I am so sorry for the slow update!**

**I got a little wound up in life, but I'm back now!**

* * *

><p>My fingers twisted my hair into another braid after the previous one was pulled out. It was a nervous habit. I was sat down on the couch cross-legged, while detective Flack sat in a chair across from me, note pad and pen in hand. "Can you tell me what happened?" He asked. "Um…" I started, still braiding a small braid behind my ear. "Well, I went down to the parking garage to get my truck. I was going to go to the lab to tell Mac that I thought it was my mom who killed my dad," I said. Flack nodded and scribbled things down in his notebook. "But when I got down there, I was walking to the truck when I heard something behind me. It sounded like a loading gun."<p>

I continued to nervously play with my hair. "She was there, and she asked if I missed her." Flack stopped writing. "Who?" He asked. "My mother. She asked me how dad was, and then she asked me if I had figured it out. She did kill him." I said dropping the braid by my head and put my hands in my lap. "Then I told her to kill me." I said. Flack dropped his pen. "Excuse me?"

"I said 'If you're going to kill me, just get it over with then.' I was just trying to buy myself more time; I didn't think she'd actually shoot me." That got me an incredulous look from Flack, who shook his head and continued jotting down notes. "After that, I heard a window shatter and she stole my truck." I concluded. "Is that it?"

I nodded. "That's it."

"Okay, thank you." Flack tucked the pen and paper into his pocket and headed for the door. "See you later guys." And then he stepped out the door. I exhaled deeply and relaxed into the couch. "This is so boring."

"What is?" Mac asked from the kitchen island where he was making a cup of coffee. "This," I said gesturing to myself and around the room. "Just sitting here and doing nothing." The over exaggerated movement pulled on the stitches on my stomach and I winced in pain. "The doctor said you should lay low for a while."

Apparently there were strict rules about what you can and can't do with stiches. It's kind of like being under house arrest. "Could I at least hang out with my friends?" After being locked up in the apartment for a few days I was ready to kill myself. Not literally, of course, I couldn't do that. But I was really bored.

I watched Mac dumped a couple spoonfuls of sugar into his cup. "I guess." He said thoughtfully. Getting off the couch, I happy danced down the hall to my room. My phone sat on my small desk, since changed from a blue to rainbow cover. I reached for it and texted Sophie, and then sauntered into my closet.

I rummaged through all of my clothes, firing things out of the doors as I went. Just as I was successfully pulling out a pair of skinny jeans, my phone vibrated and played its ring tone from where I dropped on the blankets on my bed. I tossed the pair of jeans on top of the desk chair and picked it up. "Hello." I said.

"Hey you, I just got your text." Sophie said. "Oh good. Please tell me you're free?" I asked hopefully. "Always." She laughed.

"Thank god, I am so bored!"

"Aw poor Belle." Sophie mocked, "So, I was thinking shopping." She said excitedly. "I'll buy you anything you want."

"You don't have to do that, it's not my birthday for like, five months."

"Belle you almost died, could you just let me do this?"

"Fine. Can you call Katie and see if she wants to come too?" I asked, turning back to my closet. "Wardrobe malfunction?" Sophie guessed. "No." I scoffed. "Okay, maybe."

"Oh I know you so well."

"Yeah, yeah. Would you mind getting in your car for once and come pick me up?"

"You can't drive?" Sophie asked. "I can't drive what I don't have." I said. "Oh, yeah. I forgot…" She sighed.

I pulled the jeans off the back off the chair and closely inspected them beside a yellow t shirt with long sleeves. "Anyways, I should go. Let you get your clothes figured, and call Katie. I'll be there in about half an hour. Is that good?" Sophie asked. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll meet you down in the garage."

"Alright see you soon." I said, tossing the jeans back into my closet and pulled out another pair. They had small rips and distressed spot. Satisfied, I pulled off the pants I was currently wearing and put the other ones on. Flinging my t shirt into the laundry basket and pulling the yellow one over my head. After making sure I was okay to be seen in public, I dragged my chair under the shelf that was nailed to the wall. There, on top of the shelf was a small box with a glass horse on the lid.

The horse was originally a light bay, but a few years ago I decided it should be palomino like Ike, and painted it over with a mixture of paints to create the golden color.

Lifting the lid off the box, I reached my hand in and pulled out a handful of twenty dollar bills. I counted out a hundred and put the rest of it back, stuffing the bills into my back pocket. When I had put the box back in its spot, I jumped off the chair and left my room, snatching up my phone on my way out.

"Hey, Mac. I'm going to the mall with Sophie and Katie. Is that okay?" I said, walking into the living room where Mac was reading the newspaper. "Yeah, sure. Bring your phone. Call me if you have any problems, I don't care how small, just do it." He said, looking over the paper at me. "Okay." I nodded, pulling on my shoes at the door while shoving the apartment key in my pocket. "See you later!" I waved, dashing out the door.

I walked briskly to the elevator. I couldn't help but remember what happened the last time I got in the elevator. _"Hello, sweetheart. Did you miss your dear, darling mother?"_ My mind flashed back, and I couldn't keep the voices out.

"_How's dad?" _

Cringing, I quickly tried to think of something else. _"You're my daughter, you're just like me."_

I wasn't like her. I would never be like her. _"If you're going to kill me, just get it over with then."_ I repeated in my mind, hearing the familiar ring of the gunshot as if it was real.

It was an eye opener that was for sure; wanted dead by your own mother. I tried to shake it off. Maybe she had already left New York, thinking she really did kill me, that I never made it to the hospital? The thought brought a small amount of reassurance.

In my head, I could hear glass shattering, tries squealing, and the sound of my heavy, ragged breathing. She may be gone for now, but she was still out there.


	13. Fighter

**I just noticed how many grammar and spelling mistakes I made in the last chapter :S OoooOOoops**

**I'd also like to take this time to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews!**

* * *

><p>"Over Here!" Sophie and Katie could be spotted leaning against Sophie's old silver Honda, who we had named Sally the Silver Bullet when she first got it, waving their hands at me. "Fresh air!" I laughed, dancing in between the rows of cars. "It's so good to see you!" Katie laughed with me, flinging her arms around my neck. "Yeah, it's good to be out and about." I smiled, hugging her back.<p>

"Come on you guys, we have shopping to do!" Sophie gestured excitedly to the inside of the car. "Yeah, we have stuff to buy you." Katie cheered, piling into the front, as I got in the back.

"You guys don't have to buy me anything." I sighed. Sophie paused, the key halfway into the ignition, and turned around to give me an exasperated look. "I thought we already discussed this?" She said. "Well, yeah. I was hoping you would forget." I smiled sheepishly.

"Where should we start?" Katie asked, as Sophie parked Sally into an empty space at the Manhattan Mall. "Wet Seal, please!" Sophie said. Of course. I rolled my eyes. Sophie loved Wet Seal; it was one of the very few stores she shopped at. "Oh come on Sophie, we go there every time! Branch out a little!" Katie shoved Sophie as we walked into the mall. "Yeah, variety is good." I laughed, trying to avoid hand cream venders as they reached for my hands.

"Well then, where do you suppose we start?" Sophie asked. "Shoes?"

We wasted the day away shopping and laughing, as we meandered through the mall. Now, with hands full of bags and ice cream, we made our back to the car. As I was reaching for the exit doors, I looked outside at the sea of vehicles, but the over packed parking lot wasn't what caught my eye. It was the camera crew that was waiting outside the doors.

"What do you think that's about?" Sophie asked, watching the crew as well. "I don't know; let's just go home, I'm tired." Katie said, strolling through the doors. I held the door for Sophie and followed them out, rolling up my napkin after finishing my ice cream and disposing of it in the trash can on the side walk.

"There she is!" Someone yelled. In an instant I was surrounded by cameras, microphones stuck in my face, and questions thrown at me from all directions.

"How do you feel knowing that your mother killed your father?"

"Why did she try to kill you?

"What was the purpose of stealing your car?"

"I don't know, I…" I started, but was immediately interrupted.

"How are you feeling after being shot?"

"…Sore."

"Do you think your mother will come back?"

"Will you go into witness protection?"

Witness protection? "No, I'm not going…"

"Could you tell us why you told your mother to kill you?"

Whoa, hold the phone! Who told them I said that? "Uh, no comment?"

"Come on, Belle!" I felt a hand grip the back of my shirt and I was pulled through the crowd and into the waiting car. I was shoved into the back seat by Katie, who landed roughly next to me, as Sophie floored the gas. "Stupid people." She growled from the driver's seat. "That's most likely going to be on the news tonight." Katie whispered. She was right. If those low life reporters had anything to do with it, it was going to be front page in the newspaper tomorrow.

"Sorry guys." I said quietly. "It's no one's fault," Sophie countered. "We were all innocent. Just having fun and shopping."

"Yeah, you couldn't have known that was going to happen." Katie added. I nodded slowly, still feeling guilty.

When Sophie and Katie dropped me off back at the apartment, I hauled all of my new purchases into the elevator and down the hall. I had to stop and set everything down so I could rifle through my pockets for my key, but once it was located everything was pushed into the doorway.

The apartment was dark and empty. Mac had long since left for work, and the only sound that could be heard was the clock counting down seconds in the hall. I sighed, picked up my bags and carried them to my room. I had set everything at the end of my bed to sort out later, and turned back to get a drink from the kitchen. As I was turning down the hall, something hard connected with the back of my head. "Ah!" I gasped, the force knocking me onto the floor.

I held my head with my hands, cradling the pain. "You're a fighter, I'll give you that." Catherine said, standing over me as she dropped a frying pan next to my head. "I thought I killed you the first time. I guess I'll just have to try harder." She said, grasping a fistful of my hair.

"What did I do to you to make you so angry?" I spat. Catherine smiled. "What did you do? You ruined my life! You were an accident; you were never supposed to be born." She snarled, pulling on my hair and making me cringe. An accident? "When you were born, your father dropped everything for you. He loved you more."

"That's not true! He loved you just as much as me. That's what being a family is about!" I seethed, and kicked her legs out from under her. Her grip on my hair loosened and I was able to pull away, struggling to stand from the dizziness of being clocked in the head with a frying pan. "He did!" Catherine screamed from her spot on the floor, grabbing at my ankles as I staggered to Macs room. In the night stand beside his bed, buried under a respectable amount of junk was a gun. Which I pulled out and tucked between my back and pants.

When I reentered the hall, Catherine was just getting to her feet, looking furious. "There's nothing more I've wanted than you dead!" She yelled after me as I darted down the hall and out the door. I could hear her footsteps pounding after me as I ran for the elevator. I desperately pressed the button for it, but Catherine was approaching quickly. I let out a distressed screech and ran past the elevator, to the stairs. Flinging the doors open, I flew down the stairs, taking two at a time. But when I got to the parking garage; I realized that I had no getaway vehicle.

When I heard the stair doors open, I didn't take even a second to stop and see who it was; I just took off toward the busy New York Streets.


	14. Dead To Me

**This took up an entire nights worth of creativity, and this is the outcome :/ Nice.**

**Please Read and Review!**

* * *

><p>I never ran so fast in my life. Those six years' worth of cross country had actually come in handy. The stitches on my stomach were pulling in agonizing pain, but there was no way I wanted to be shot again. Behind me, I could hear a gun firing, and a bullet whizzed past my head.<p>

Running through the exit, I emerged onto the sidewalks, people were looking around panicked, and confused. Some were even ducking. I pushed my way through the crowds of people. This was a great time not to have the truck. Insert Sarcasm here. I still had my phone though. As I pulled it out, I speed dialed Mac while I shouldered my way through people. "Move!" I heard Catherine yell, firing another round into the air. People screamed and ran for cover, but I pressed on.

"Taylor," A voice came through the receiver. "Hi, Mac." I panted. "Hi, Belle. You sound out of breath, what are you doing?" He asked. "Oh, you know, just out for a run. Remember how you said I could call you if I had a problem?" I said, pushing past a couple holding hands.

"Yeah. Why? Did something happen?"

"Um…" I started, hearing another shot ring out, and the bullet collided with the brick wall of a building just in front of me. Instinctually, I ducked, only faltering for a second, and then carrying on again. "What the hell was that?" Mac asked, his voice raising. People scattered at the sound of another gun shot. I looked over my shoulder and found Catherine a little far behind me, but not far enough that I was out of range. She was still aggressively shoving people out of the way.

"A gun." I replied, darting past a man who was sprinting into an alleyway. "What?"

"A gun. You know, bullets? They kill people?" I clarified. "I know what it is." Mac snapped.

"My mother is currently chasing me down the sidewalk firing bullets at me." I said. "Where are you?" Mac asked, sounding very worried. "I'm on," I trailed off, looking for street names. "Fifty sec…" Another shot was fired and people ran in all directions, before I could finish my sentence and tell Mac where I was, a man ran square into me, knocking me off my feet.

In result, my phone flew from my hand, landing on the sidewalk and knocking the back cover and the battery off. There was no time to collect the pieces and put it back together. Standing up, I pulled the gun out of my jeans and held it up.

Other pedestrians screamed and ran. Catherine stopped dead, holding her own gun to me. "What are you going to do now?"

"Shoot me?" She mocked. What was I going to do? I didn't know how to fire a gun, and I was shaking uncontrollably. "You couldn't kill me, even if you wanted to." She laughed. People talk about killing one another as if it's nothing. Like it's simple. But pulling the trigger on someone you hate most is harder than I imagined. "You killed dad." I said, trying to stop the gun from shaking in my hand.

"Yeah, and just like you, he couldn't pull the trigger either." Catherine smiled.

"You know," I started, looking down at my feet. "After all these years, I wanted to forgive you. I did. But every time I tried, I reminded myself how much I really resented you. And now, I don't really care what happens to you, whether you die or rot in a jail cell for the rest of your life, because you're a cold hearted, poisonous bitch who murdered my father." Police sirens echoed down the street. Returning my gaze to Catherine, I was met with a look of pure hatred.

It was almost as if she trying to burn holes in me.

Everything moved in slow motion, Catherine pulled the trigger back, firing off another round, aiming right at me. And at the same time, I fired my own gun, which was aimed straight for her.

In an instant, I could feel the bullet graze my upper arm. With a hiss of pain, I clutched the wound, and the gun fell from my hand and landed on the pavement. I watched as Catherine, my own mother, fell onto the sidewalk, a decent sized bullet hole placed on her thigh. I watched as she lay there screaming, writhing in pain.

But I didn't feel even the least bit of remorse.

Feeling dazed, I watched as an all too familiar Chevrolet Avalanche and ambulance pulled over. A couple of police cars skidded to a halt, and officers jumped out, running over to Catherine. I stood where I was, as Mac ran to me, looking all too relieved that it wasn't me lying on the sidewalk again.

"Fancy meeting you here." I said, smiling half-heartedly. "Yeah, fancy that." Mac said, wrapping his arms around me. "How bad is it?" He asked, letting go and inspecting my arm as he dragged me to the ambulance. "Not too bad. I hope." The paramedics sat down inside the ambulance as the cleaned and bandaged the wound. As they did so, I watched the police car that my mother was sitting in, pulled away from the scene. She sat handcuffed in the back seat, smiling wickedly at her feet.

I cringed slightly at the expression. I just shot her in the leg, then she was arrested, and yet she was smiling? Sighing, I leaned back against the wall of the ambulance. The shot may not have been fatal enough to kill her, but she was already dead to me.


	15. Waking Up

Some of the commotion had died down. But there were still reporters and photographers that stood behind the police line, flashing pictures of everything and anything. I was sitting on the edge of the ambulance, watching it all. "That was a nice shot." Flack said, coming over and sitting next to me. "I was aiming for her arm." I said.

"Oh. Well, we just won't tell people that." He smiled. Even if I hadn't killed Catherine, I still couldn't come to terms that I had shot someone. Sure, it was self-defense, and I was wounded in return, but I had pulled the trigger. I pulled it back and shot my own mother.

"Come on," Flack put a hand on my shoulder. "You should go home." He said. I nodded and slowly stood up, following him to where Mac was getting ready to leave. "Ready to go?" He asked. I nodded again.

When we arrived home, I went straight to my room without saying a word. The past weeks were finally dawning on me. My dad was murdered, and my mom was arrested. Most likely to spend a few years in jail.

It felt like I was waking up from a dream, but realizing everything that had happened was true.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry to say, but this is the end.<strong>

**It's been fun.**

**Just Kidding! Stay tuned for SEQUEL!**


End file.
